Rosewood Massacre

I FEEL a response is needed to the recent attempts by some elected officials to pass a reparations bill that would compensate the alleged victims of the now famous Rosewood massacre.It's completely ridiculous to think that our representatives in Tallahassee are even seriously considering such a plan, which would take $7 million out of the already ailing state budget to pay the victims (and their descendants) of a crime that occurred in 1923.Nobody condones violence directed against innocent people, but this 71-year-old crime has never been entirely proven and never will be. The guilty parties are probably no longer with us and, as a matter of fact, it is those guilty parties who are responsible for their own actions and only they can be punished for their crimes - if justice is to be served.

DAYTONA BEACH -- Some days there are no visitors. Gionne Wells sits among artifacts, some from her extended family. The lessons of Rosewood -- a mostly black Gulf Coast town that was wiped out by a white mob in January 1923 -- remain untold. But that silence is becoming the exception rather than the rule at the second-floor library display at Bethune-Cookman College. The story of the town that was swept from maps and memory for nearly 70 years is no longer a family secret. Wells, docent for the exhibit for the past two years, is recounting the stories she learned sitting in her grandmother's lap to several hundred visitors each year.

The Florida attorney general's office is about a week away from completing ''family trees'' for descendants of the Rosewood massacre of 1923.The lists are the last step before the office distributes $500,000 in compensation for lost property. Fewer than 100 people probably will be eligible to receive the money, which was approved last year by the Florida Legislature.Nine survivors already have received $150,000 each, the first time any black residents in the United States have been compensated for racial violence, according to the attorney general's office.

In the early morning hours of Jan. 1, 1923, a massacre forever linked the small North Florida town of Rosewood with racial hatred. That morning a white woman, Fannie Taylor, claimed that she was attacked by an unknown black male. That afternoon, a sheriff's posse arrested black Rosewood resident Aaron Carrier and took him out of town. Later, white vigilantes killed another black man, Sam Carter, setting off mob violence. Almost every home and building in the community of about 120 people nine miles east of Cedar Key burned to the ground.

Before Rosewood, there was Ocoee.The January 1923 Rosewood massacre has been in the spotlight as the Florida Legislature debates whether to pay more than $2 million to survivors of the racial violence that obliterated their black Levy County settlement.The focus on Rosewood has stirred memories of the November 1920 Ocoee riot, when at least six people died after violence erupted because a black man tried to vote.Twenty-five homes, two churches and a lodge meeting hall in the black section of the Orange County community reportedly were torched.

As with many other episodes in Americas struggle for racial equality, I too am embarrassed by the horrors of the Rosewood massacre (The Murder of a Town, Jan. 5). But equally disturbing is the perspective offered by Rick Badie.The perpetuation of racism is promoted by only one element: instruction. Human beings are not born with a predisposition to hate other human beings. That tendency must be impressed upon the blank screen of a young mind by external influences. Those primary forces today are parents and government (schools, agencies, etc.)

Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted. Where many filmmakers shout their good intentions from every scene, director John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood) allows his message to arise naturally, from the specifics.Inspired by actual events, the R-rated 1997 film is a tale of two Gulf Coast towns - the relatively prosperous, black Rosewood and its dirt-poor, white neighbor, Sumner.

In the early morning hours of Jan. 1, 1923, a massacre forever linked the small North Florida town of Rosewood with racial hatred. That morning a white woman, Fannie Taylor, claimed that she was attacked by an unknown black male. That afternoon, a sheriff's posse arrested black Rosewood resident Aaron Carrier and took him out of town. Later, white vigilantes killed another black man, Sam Carter, setting off mob violence. Almost every home and building in the community of about 120 people nine miles east of Cedar Key burned to the ground.

**** Rosewood (Warner, 140 minutes, R, priced for rental): Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed last year in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted.It's hard to overstate what a difference this makes. Where many filmmakers shout their good intentions from every scene, director John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood)

DAYTONA BEACH -- Some days there are no visitors. Gionne Wells sits among artifacts, some from her extended family. The lessons of Rosewood -- a mostly black Gulf Coast town that was wiped out by a white mob in January 1923 -- remain untold. But that silence is becoming the exception rather than the rule at the second-floor library display at Bethune-Cookman College. The story of the town that was swept from maps and memory for nearly 70 years is no longer a family secret. Wells, docent for the exhibit for the past two years, is recounting the stories she learned sitting in her grandmother's lap to several hundred visitors each year.

Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted. Where many filmmakers shout their good intentions from every scene, director John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood) allows his message to arise naturally, from the specifics.Inspired by actual events, the R-rated 1997 film is a tale of two Gulf Coast towns - the relatively prosperous, black Rosewood and its dirt-poor, white neighbor, Sumner.

**** Rosewood (Warner, 140 minutes, R, priced for rental): Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed last year in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted.It's hard to overstate what a difference this makes. Where many filmmakers shout their good intentions from every scene, director John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood)

Rosewood is a message movie with a difference.Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed last year in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted.It's hard to overstate what a difference this makes. Where movies like A Time to Kill and Ghosts of Mississippi spend a lot of time making pious, obvious points about race relations, this one concentrates on telling its specific, shocking tale.

As with many other episodes in Americas struggle for racial equality, I too am embarrassed by the horrors of the Rosewood massacre (The Murder of a Town, Jan. 5). But equally disturbing is the perspective offered by Rick Badie.The perpetuation of racism is promoted by only one element: instruction. Human beings are not born with a predisposition to hate other human beings. That tendency must be impressed upon the blank screen of a young mind by external influences. Those primary forces today are parents and government (schools, agencies, etc.)

The other day, I captured the bubble in the middle of my coffee before it got to the edge of the cup, but I still haven't received the money that is supposed to come my way. (This was one of my grandmother's superstitions - take your spoon and catch the bubble and you'll get money.)I better play Lotto this weekend.If I win, well, it was nice knowing ya.Likely, my driver and I would be off to someplace like the Maritime Provinces.Anyhow, so much for dreams that will never come true.That cup of coffee was served to me in the Capriccio restaurant at the Peabody Orlando - where I was having Sunday brunch.

Willie Evans is blind. He has trouble standing. He is 87 years old.There is little that could change Evans life these days even a lot of money.But money is what Evans suddenly has. The state of Florida wrote him a check in September for $50,000. Another check for $100,000 followed in January.Evans is one of nine survivors of Rosewood, a town east of Cedar Key. He was 15 on New Years Day 1923, when at least six blacks and two whites died at the hands of an enraged mob. A black man had been accused of assaulting a white woman, and white residents went wild, destroying the community and scattering its inhabitants.

It didn't seem like an historic occasion.Five senators sat at one end of a long wooden table chatting about issues and priorities. There was no big crowd. No great ceremony.Mostly, there were reporters. A bunch of them. They had spotted the meeting's significance: The first official gathering of a black caucus in Florida's state Senate.Until last year, such a caucus in the state Senate would have seemed ridiculous.There were only two black senators. Two may be company, but it's not a caucus.

Rosewood is a message movie with a difference.Set in the Florida community of Rosewood in 1923, this passionate drama about the madness of racism was filmed last year in Lake County. But unlike most films on such topics, this one doesn't feel obliged to demonstrate that racism is evil.Rosewood simply takes that for granted.It's hard to overstate what a difference this makes. Where movies like A Time to Kill and Ghosts of Mississippi spend a lot of time making pious, obvious points about race relations, this one concentrates on telling its specific, shocking tale.

The Florida attorney general's office is about a week away from completing ''family trees'' for descendants of the Rosewood massacre of 1923.The lists are the last step before the office distributes $500,000 in compensation for lost property. Fewer than 100 people probably will be eligible to receive the money, which was approved last year by the Florida Legislature.Nine survivors already have received $150,000 each, the first time any black residents in the United States have been compensated for racial violence, according to the attorney general's office.

Before Rosewood, there was Ocoee.The January 1923 Rosewood massacre has been in the spotlight as the Florida Legislature debates whether to pay more than $2 million to survivors of the racial violence that obliterated their black Levy County settlement.The focus on Rosewood has stirred memories of the November 1920 Ocoee riot, when at least six people died after violence erupted because a black man tried to vote.Twenty-five homes, two churches and a lodge meeting hall in the black section of the Orange County community reportedly were torched.